The Minstrel's Song
by Artichokie
Summary: A Helga Hufflepuff oneshot. Following the hanging of her parents, Helga is left on her own, forced to journey to her relatives' homes alone. During the night, bandits happen upon her. What shall happen?


_**Author's Note: **The opening italics are an excerpt taken from the poem "Darkness" by George Gordon, Lord Byron. Let's pretend he was alive almost one thousand years before his time._

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**The Minstrel's Song  
**_By Artichokie_

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_I had a dream, which was not all a dream.  
__The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars  
__Did wander darkling in the eternal space,  
__Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth  
__Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air._

A cool wind blew through the trees, causing a light rustling sound to follow in its wake. The sky was murky grey, threatening to release its fragile hold on the moisture it possessed. The air was nippy--too nippy for it being late summer.

Helga Hufflepuff walked down a country road, unintentionally kicking stray stones as she went. Her golden brown hair was tied back with a green ribbon, its ends flapping against the hood of her black cloak. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her body, one hand fisted, in an attempt to ward off the chill. The other hand clasped a small burlap sack full of a small amount of food and a spare dress.

Her normally vibrant face was pale; her dark green eyes were downcast. Goosebumps dotted her exposed skin as her teeth chattered in beat to her steps. Every so often, a shiver over took her body, and she let out an unconscious moan.

She wished for numbness, both mentally and physically. It had only been hours since witnessing her parents hang in the town square. She would never forget their faces as they stood, awaiting their end; her father's as hard and calm as stone, and her mother's animated with despair. Her mother's last cry before the floor fell and the rope tightened around her neck, all distorted and choked, would forever haunt Helga's resting mind.

She hadn't stayed to watch their final movements. Something had compelled her to leave, to turn her back on the disheartening scene. Now, she was in the middle of nowhere with only fragments of a destination in mind. She knew she had relatives in London, and some in-between there and her home, but she wasn't mentally close to many of them. As for distance, she knew she could make it to her aunt's lodgings by sundown the following day. That would require spending one night alone in the wilderness, a thought which frightened her.

_What must be done, must be done,_ she told herself sternly.

Stopping abruptly, Helga observed the road ahead. A hill loomed in the distance, causing her to inwardly groan. She should've stolen a horse! Not that she would have known how to do so successfully if she had come across one. Still, she'd rather be riding a horse right now than walking.

Sighing, she looked towards they sky. She tried to figure out how much daylight remained, but it wasn't easy. The thick blanketing of clouds made it seem like it was hours later than it truly was. Deeming it impossible to tell, her eyes fell to the surrounding land. Trees lined the road, much to Helga's delight and dismay.

The light sound of running water off to her left caught her attention. She turned and gazed into the thick foliage, wondering how deep she'd have to venture before reaching the stream she heard. Just the thought of water made her weak-kneed. She was exhausted and, she guessed nearly dehydrated. Resigning herself to the fact that she may never find the road again once leaving it, she picked up her skirts and burlap sack and stepped over a root just outside of the thick trees.

Helga didn't have to walk far at all. She had barely been engulfed by the dimness of the forest before it opened to a rivulet canopied by large tree branches. The beauty of the scene caught her off-guard.

Kneeling at the edge of the water, she cupped her hands and dipped them into the clear, cool liquid. She drank her fill and washed her face, noting the tiny cuts that striped her face and, with further examination, her arms. Grimacing, she tore a strip from her skirts, dipped into the water, and tended her wounds.

Once she was done, she sat back on her heels and yawned. Night was drawing near, she realized. She still wasn't comfortable about staying alone in the wilderness. She had heard stories of people being robbed, woman being raped, and children being kidnapped. Of course, Helga figured most were exaggerated, but that didn't make her any more complacent.

She was also aware of her body's weakened condition. If she continued now, it wouldn't be long before her body collapsed in the middle of the road. With night approaching and many messengers--_bandits, more like,_ she reasoned--traveling during the darkened hours, she'd surely be trampled. At least here in the woods she'd have a chance to ward off any death-bringing beat. Wouldn't she?

Just to be sure, Helga pulled out her wand from her sack. She picked up her bag and walked over to the trunk of a tree. Tucking the bag up against the tree, she laid her body down on the springy grass. She rested her head upon her sack and vowed she'd only close her eyes for a little bit, just to relinquish some semblance of strength.

_Only a little while . . ._

A soft whispering of voices woke Helga. She opened her eyes, but only saw darkness. Silently berating herself, she realized she had slept longer than what she had allotted herself. She yawned, sat up, and reached for her bag. When she didn't feel it, she realized that the side of her face was moist.

That's when she remembered the whispers.

Stiffening, Helga was grateful to feel her wand still grasped in her hand. Ignoring the niggling thought that the whispers she heard belonged to the men who had hung her parents, she coherently whispered, "_Lumos!_" A beam of light shout out of the end of her wand, landing on a small turtle, who slept in its shell along the stream's edge.

Moving the beam slowly around the area in front of her, Helga's breath became increasingly labored. Half of her wanted to up and run, forgetting about her sack, while the rest of her desperately longed for it. She heard movement to her left, so she quickly pointed her wand in that direction.

The light landed on a face.

Quelling a frightened gasp, Helga scooted back snugly against the tree trunk she had fallen asleep next to. The face was masculine and dark. His mouth was covered by the coarse hairs of his unkempt black mustache and beard. Thick eyebrows that spread across the bottom of his forehead nearly concealed his eyes. Helga almost wished they did.

His eyes were a dark, violent blue color. She could see his greed in their depths, feel their ruthlessness in their gaze. His eyes roved over her quivering form in the dim light. After a pause, his eyes returned to her face.

A wide, rapacious grin started spreading from beneath his facial hairs. Yellow, crooked teeth gleamed with saliva in the wand light. If that wasn't enough to make her sick, then the smell greeting her nose surely was. Helga could feel her nearly-empty stomach coil tightly.

"Oi," he said, his voice gravelly; "looks like we gots ourselves a live 'un."

Glancing away from the man, she noticed the outlines of two men behind him. This was what she was afraid of happening. Surely she'd be raped and then kidnapped! And they'd keep her bag! _This was the end, _she thought dramatically.

One of the men stepped forward and leaned toward the front man. His frail body was quivering as he sent her fearful glances. Putting one hand on the man's shoulder, the shaking one hissed something into the other man's ear. That _something_ sounded suspiciously like "She's a witch!" to Helga. The thought of her parents' deaths loomed to the front of her mind and she instantly regretted her rashness.

Pushing the other man behind him, the one with the hairy face continued to stare at her. Her spine shivered in revulsion. He wasn't afraid of her, she realized. Quickly glancing at the one man who hadn't stepped forward, she noted that he also looked at ease, despite a little concerned. She eyed him, finding his reaction odd, but reluctantly returned her gaze to the front man.

Her heart skipped a beat when she realized he had loomed ever closer. If she were to lean three inches away from the tree, her head would touch the bottom hairs of his beard. Still grasping her wand, she used the heels of her feet and hands to push against the dirt. She couldn't run; her legs would hardly hold her in her state of fear.

One of his bony hands entered the ray of light still shooting out of her wand and slowly eased towards her. If he touched her, she knew she would be sick. She turned her face away from him in an attempt to ward him off. She knew it wouldn't, but she couldn't think of any other option.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Helga clinched her jaw and waited for the contact of his hand. She didn't know what it would feel like, didn't want to know. She swallowed down the bile that had begun to rise in her throat. _Just let me survive this! _she silently pleaded.

A muffled _thump!_ and a groan met her ears. Turning her head, she saw that the hairy man was no where to be found. Glancing up, she saw the backside of the quivering man as he ran down the banks of the river. The other man stood above her, a log in hand. Automatically thinking the worst, Helga brought her arms up to cover her head, blinding herself in the process.

"No!" she yelled, more so out of instinctual reaction than anything else. Before she could turn her face away, a loud splash splintered the silence left behind her cry. Looking towards the rivulet, she saw the log float easily down stream.

"Shh," the standing man hissed, bringing her attention back to him; "I'm not going to hurt you." She slowly brought her hands down from her head and settled them tightly at her sides, her eyes focused on him. He held out his hand to help her up. Taking it, he hauled her to her feet and turned away.

Helga observed him as he reached into the darkness for something. He was a tall man with a nice build in his upper body. He wasn't bulky as some of the knights she had seen, but he could most definitely be one, she mused. His hair went past his shoulders, she could see that. It was a shade of brown darker than her own, she surmised.

When he turned back around, she noticed that his eyes were kind, although the rest of his face was hard. He had prominent cheek bones and a stubborn chin. If it wasn't for those two glinting slits, Helga might have been afraid of him. Something told her that she had nothing to fear from him, however.

He glanced down to her wand. "You may want to put that out," he said quietly, his gaze moving towards the unconscious man at her feet. Unconsciously stepping back, she glanced down at him. Inwardly shivering, she glanced back at the standing man.

"My bag," she bluntly stated. "Sir, do you know where it is?"

"Aye," he nodded, holding his hand high to show that he grasped it. Relief spilling through her, she stepped around the quiescent man and reached for her bag. He let her take it, turning to face her.

"Thank you," Helga said quietly. They observed each other for a minute, silently making assumptions that were both correct and incorrect. A soft groan of pain brought them out of their reveries. Helga's heart began to pound at the thought of that man. Looking back, she saw him start to push himself up, his head shaking. Glancing back at the man standing before her, she saw he also noted his actions. He grabbed her arm and started tugging her along behind him.

"Follow me," he said; his voice was barely above a whisper. "And, put out your wand," he repeated. Quietly grumbling, she did as he asked.

She had to run to keep up with him. Her skirt kept snagging on low branches while her feet kept tripping over high roots. They were traveling along the riverbank, the ground moist beneath her feet.

Finally, he paused to survey the area. Once he deemed it safe, he let go of her arm and walked to the river. Helga, trying to regain her breath, had dropped her bag at her feet and was leaning on her knees. She coughed several times and wiped the sweat from her face.

Glancing at him, she saw he was watching her. Straightening, her chest still heaving, she tried to look as complacent as he did. Why did men have to get the physical abilities? Pushing the loose strands of her hair behind her shoulder, she pushed her chin high.

"Who are you, sir?" she asked, her voice betraying her by having a slight breathlessness aspect to it.

His eyes grinned at her; she realized he knew what she was thinking. "Gryffindor," he said simply. "My name is Godric Gryffindor."

"Gryffindor," she nodded in response. "I'm Miss Helga Hufflepuff."

The slight widening at the mouth was his only response to her statement. Once more surveying the area, he took a deep breath and leaned back on the grass. "We should be safe here for the rest of the night. You look dead on your feet, so you might as well rest a bit."

Silently thanking him, Helga didn't even bother to think of what dangers he might pose to her. He had saved her life; she trusted him more than she did anyone else at the moment. Laying down a little ways away from him, she slipped her bag once more underneath her head and closed her eyes.

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**-Fin- **

Please R/R.


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